


Spicing Things Up

by MissSunFlower94



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 15:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3534398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSunFlower94/pseuds/MissSunFlower94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say all healthy relationships need experimenting</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spicing Things Up

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse for this

It wasn’t necessarily that Bog was opposed to the idea, when Marianne brought it up. He understood what she was saying and in fact a large part of his was quite willing. It was only just…

“You just hate change,” Marianne said, stubbornly, pacing before the firepit of the dining area. Two days of constant summer drizzle had turned the fairy’s one-night’s stay into going on it’s third day. Of course, both were overjoyed at the unexpected, unavoidable reason to keep each other’s company for longer than a night here and there as they had been where they stood. Even their bickering was a welcome experience; having someone who could hold their own in a battle of wits was a new, delightful treat for them both. 

He leaned against the table, arms crossed. “I do not hate change,” he protested. Marianne snorted, and Bog added. “If I were so adverse to it, tough girl, would we be where we are now?”

She spared him one of her small smiles. “Okay, you have that. In that case, though, you have no excuse! You said you thought it was a good idea just a minute ago! What, are you scared?”

Bog bristled, shoulders rattling loudly. Marianne’s smile grew, wide and wicked and oh-so satisfied. It was his favorite expression, loving the way it completely undid him and made him want nothing more than to completely undo her in return. That Marianne knew all of this only made it worse.

“What’s wrong with what we have been doing?” He asked. He sounded defensive and he knew it. And damn it, she was right; Bog, while usually reasonably open to breaking tradition, had certain limits when it came to his own comfort zone. He had never been particularly good at going outside of it. - it was still a wonder that he had let Marianne in, let himself love. It had been one of his most out-of-character moments and he would be forever grateful for it. 

Marianne waved her hand, making a face. “Nothing’s wrong with it. I just think it would be nice have more… options, don’t you?”

He grimaced, looking away from her to the set of weapons on the dining table. Forcing himself to look at it with some objective quality, he picked one up. They were daggers - fairy daggers - four of them, fine and curved with floral designs etched in both blade and hilt. Even in the dim hall they caught the light in a way that they seemed to glow. They looked more like decorative table wear, not weapons. 

His paramour had brought them, with the intention of sparring with them. Experimenting.

Bog’s mouth curved down in distaste. “They’re  _fairy_  weapons.”

“Oh, for-” Marianne stopped pacing, coming to join him. She picked up a dagger of her own, flipping it in the air and catching it by the hilt. “You big bigot; surely you’ve learned by now  _pretty_  doesn’t always mean  _soft_. Look, they’re made out of the same metal as my sword and you know first-hand how strong that can be.” He had a handful of chips and light scars that agreed with her. She flipped it again and he caught it before she had the chance. She scowled.

“They’re fairy weapons,” he repeated. “And therefor you have more experience. We wouldn’t be even.”

“Never knew you were such a stickler for playing fair.” She said dryly. She lunged, grabbing the dagger from his hand. “I’ve had no more experience than you, I’ll have you know. I couldn’t very well practice these with handmaidens. I only ever saw the guard practice with them. I’ve always wanted to.”

She leaned closer to him on every word, her eyes wide. “I’m very onto that pitiful expression of yours,” Bog deadpanned. 

“Doesn’t mean you’re immune to it,” she said, her voice still over-sweet her eyes still pleading. It was true and them both acknowledging it didn’t make it any less so. Even less was his immunity in the face of the knowledge that it was something she had been deprived from in her kingdom, something only he could give her.

Bog turned the weapon in his hands, not ready to admit defeat just yet. “So you… have no idea how to fight with them? That sounds… dangerous.”

She practically vibrated. “ _Right_? Neither of us have done close range fighting before.”

And it  _was_  a challenge.

Damn, she was good.

Bog stood, grabbing the other blade. Marianne lit up in a way that was both adorable and fierce and completely her. She took up two blades of her own, fisting the hilt. “Like this… I remember that much.” She made a few passing swings to get a hang of how to twist her hands, how to angle blows. He awkwardly mirrored her, unnerved by how light and small the weapons were. He could crush them if he so chose. 

Marianne was the first to make a pass for him. He stepped back, raising both hands as if expecting a staff still in them. She laughed, and laughed harder when he scowled. He swung low for her, and managed to connect as she raised to block. She spun back, swinging one blade down. While the tools were new, he recognized her movements after months of sparring and knew a bit about anticipating. He brought a blade up to parry, the second quickly following as she brought her other hand in a similar arc.

It took a while, they both kept coming together too strong, the force of their blows causing at least one of them to drop their weapon. Bog was entirely unused to being consistently this close to his opponent in a battle and kept being thrown off when they came together. Marianne was quicker to pick it up, but even she had difficulty remembering that she held weapons in both hands and it off-balanced her now and again. They crashed into one another more than once, laughing a little breathlessly and starting over. It would have been frustrating, infuriating even, had it been with anyone but her.

And after a few, exhausting, hours, they were getting a messy hang of it. It was more… graceful than either of them were used to but they got a rhythm between them. They learned, not unlike their usual duels to use the force of their blows to propel their movements, spinning around each other almost in a dance. Bog learned he favored his left hand when blocking, and that Marianne liked alternating both blades in wide sweeping arcs that might have left her open to counterattacks were she not so fast.

In this, as in all things, they were evenly matched.

They were laughing, soon enough. Laughing and breathlessly hurling their usual insults and challenges. When Marianne spun low to get a blow to his leg, he spun before she could reach, swinging an arm around to smack her lightly on the ass with the blunt edge of the blade. She made a delightful ‘oof!’ noise stumbling forward a few steps and turning to him, playfully outraged. Bog smirked. 

She lunged for him again, their fight turning messy once more. When she dropped her first blade she didn’t bother picking it up. Then he dropped one of his a moment later, and then they had abandoned their arms completely, the fight turning to an equally messy embrace. Their hands clumsily finding purchase around one another, pressed back against dining table again, laughing through their kisses.

By the time that the kiss became something more heated, Bog was deciding Marianne had been absolutely right. They had needed this, and they would certainly need to do this again. 


End file.
